Prologue: RAGE&GRACE
by SupernaturalRageAndGrace
Summary: How would things have been changed if the Yellow Eyed Demon had been a little more devious and John Winchester just a bit more desperate?
1. Chapter 1: In My Time Of Dying

**RATING:** M for minor language

**TITLE:** Prologue:_ "In My Time Of Dying"_

**FEATURING:**_ John Winchester, Azazel_

**PLACE:** Sioux County, South Dakota (General Hospital)

**DATE:** July 11, 2006 (Early Morning)

His demeanor was stoic, though his heart felt ready to leap from his chest. And for once, John Winchester was choosing his next words very carefully. With his mind racing through a variety of visions - all ranging from bartering for Sam's life to his own - John met the Demon's yellow, pupil-less eyes - the mirth dancing in them making him feel sick to his stomach - and spoke with a voice that was quite level despite the internal quavering. "What do you want?'

A grin broke across Azazel's face and he dropped the weary looking hunter a wink. "You really are desperate, aren't you John? I must admit, after all these years, I expected more out of you. More of a challenge. More of a fight. More hair...," The laugh which bubbled forth was gleeful, showing just how much contempt the demon had for the man standing before him.

Steeling his jaw to prevent himself from retorting, and possibly shooting the sonofabitch right then and there, John waited for Azazel to cease his chortling. "Look, you wanna deal or you wanna chitchat? 'Cause I'm standin' here waiting on the former and all I'm hearing is the latter," A sneer crossed John's grizzled features, "And, no offense, but I don't like you enough to be social."

Clapping his hands together, Azazel began to pace, his brow furrowing in annoyance at a game cut all too short. "You used to be a lot more fun, John. I mean, all those years, all those clues I left you...You practically gobbled them up. Now, here I am, standing right in front of you, and you're all business," The Demon stopped dead in front of the eldest Winchester, "Didn't you have a good time when we shared your body? I know from that experience there's a few things you want to talk about."

"What can I say, I have my priorities right now. And you can either make the deal or find I'll find someone else who will," John's hands began to clench at his sides in an antsy manner. With every moment wasted here it was another moment that Dean was closer to death. And the very thought gave John a pain in his chest. Through clenched teeth, he repeated his question, "What do you want?"

Azazel watched John in silence for the briefest of moments, the unseemly grin slowly returning, "Fine, business it is," Moving closer until he was nearly nose to nose with John, Azazel spoke with a chill in his tone which would break even the most enduring of men, "You want me to help Dean? You gotta help me. You see this pesky little gun, John?" He held up the Colt, dangling it in from of John's face, "You know what it does?"

John responded with a cocky grin, "Yeah, I know what that gun does. You want me to demonstrate?" He held out his hand, almost daring the Demon to hand it over.

Chuckling, Azazel moved the gun just out of John's reach, "Now, now, that's not what I meant. And you know it. This special little pain in my ass - and I mean the gun, John, not you - is a key to a very important door. A door you're going to open for me.

His eyes narrowing, John grit his teeth. If the legends were indeed true, what Azazel was asking him to do went against everything John had fought against in the past 23 years. So, John decided to bide himself some time and play it safe, "And what door would that be?"

"Oh, John, that whole dumb act of yours," Azazel wagged a finger in front of the hunter's face, "It's not as convincing as you think it is. But, I'll play along," He paused, heaving a dramatic, overwrought sigh, "This is the key which opens the Devil's Gate - the door to Hell - and that's all you need to know. My terms, John. Follow them or, as you say, look elsewhere. Good luck with that by the way.

Open the door to Hell.

The very idea made the room begin to spin, and in response, John closed his eyes and attempted to steady his breathing as his adrenaline made his body begin to go numb. He was sure Azazel was likely to take it as a sign of weakness, yet John really didn't care at the moment. The demon had him over a barrel and he knew it. Hell, he was enjoying mighty John Winchester, forced to do a demon's bidding...all because, once again, he couldn't save someone he loved.

With his grin broadening, Azazel tilted his head to the side, studying the hunter before him and clearly enjoying his discomfort. He was pleased with John's reaction, it meant that the man was indeed desperate. And being desperate, well, that just meant Azazel was going to get his way a lot sooner than he thought. And with a lot less effort on his part. He liked that. Plus, he'd be the talk of Hell for having been the one to finally break the myth that was John Winchester. If he was so inclined, Azazel would have done cartwheels at the very prospect. "John..." He reached out and tapped the hunter on the side of his temple, lightly, yet with enough force to draw attention, "You still in there, or have you lost what precious hold you had left on your little, war wounded mind?"

At the demon's touch, John's eyes flew opened and his upper lip slightly curled up as he recoiled. "I'm here and keep your damned hands to yourself..." For the briefest of moments, John found himself staring down Azazel, overcome by his hatred for the demon and unable to move. Looking into the very eyes, the soul, of what had came into his home and killed his wife...John felt bile beginning to rise to his throat.

Snapping his fingers in front of John's face, Azazel quipped, "You sure? You appear to be having some sort of fit..." He pantomimed the expression of one who's been struck with a great idea, "Good thing we're in a hospital...Should I call someone for you, John? I mean, the nurses aren't much help...But then neither are the doctors...I do know a damned good reaper who's hanging around though," Azazel paused to tap a finger against his cheek, as if thinking, "You know, I think Dean is chatting her up at the moment, something you both could bond over,"

"SHUT UP!" The words burst forth from John before he could stop them, and without debating it further, he agreed to Azazel's terms, "You bring Dean back, I'll open your damned gate. But first," John pointed his finger at Azazel, his gaze dark, "You bring him back. I want confirmation he's okay before I condemn myself to being your bitch."

"Fine, no need to get pissy, John. I am doing you a favor," The demon took a hold of John's arm, his hand sliding it's way slowly down to the hunter's hand and gripping it tightly in a handshake. Leaning in close, Azazel cocked his head as he whispered in John's ear, "Normally, I seal my deals in...other ways..." The grin returned, now more lascivious in nature, "But I just don't like you enough to make you my bitch, as you say," Pulling back, he thrust the Colt in John's hand before turning to leave. As he was halfway across the room, Azazel paused once more and turned to face John, his eyes piercing and narrowed, "Oh, and John? If you even think about double crossing me after I bring Dean back, I wouldn't recommend trying it. I will have soldiers watching your boys until you've held up your end of the bargain. If you fail to, I will not hesitate in killing Dean. And you will not see young Sam again," He turned again, moving off into the darkness, "And that will only be the start, John. We both know there are others I can - and will - remove from your life."

And with that, the demon was gone, leaving John Winchester standing alone in the boiler room, already doubting his decision.


	2. Chapter 2: The Gate Opens

**RATING:** M for minor language

**TITLE:** Prologue: _"The Gate Opens"_

**FEATURING:** _John Winchester, Azazel_

**PLACE:** Clifton, Wyoming (Devil's Gate)

**DATE:** July 11, 2006 (Late Night)

It was cold, especially for a July evening. But if it was just the weather or his nerves going haywire, John Winchester couldn't really say either way. Gingerly stepping over the iron railway ties which surrounded the cemetery, John did a quick 360 of his surroundings, to make sure he was, indeed, alone. Though he had little doubt that somewhere, deep in the darkness of the night, Azazel had one of his spies trained on him, watching his every move, and his every falter.

A short, pensive breath escaped John as he walked slowly towards the large ornate door, The Devils Gate, his eyes still slipping from side to side to make sure he wasn't about to be accosted. As he reached the door, John extended a hand and gently traced the pentagram shape which surrounded the lock. It was worn smooth and ice cold, something he felt he could relate too right about now.

Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he slowly withdrew the Colt, the weight of it in his hand cementing the fact that this wasn't a dream, or rather, nightmare. This was happening. The demon was going to win and John was doing his dirty work for him. If this were the Marines, John Winchester knew he'd be considered a traitor and would pay dearly for it.

But Dean would be alive.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he brought the Colt to his temple, knowing he could easily end this himself, without lowering himself to being a demon's minion. But, for John Winchester, he knew that would be taking the coward's way out. And Dean would suffer for it. And Sammy would be left alone, to fight off Azazel and his foot soldiers.

And he couldn't let either of those things happen.

With a shaky breath, John opened his eyes, the look in them showing his was fixated on the task at hand. He lowered the Colt to the lock on the door, reflecting only momentarily on what he was about to do, before pushing it in solidly. With a twist to the side, there was a small sounding click and, for a moment, he feared that either he had done something incorrectly or that Azazel was playing him for a fool, to see how far he would take it.

Within seconds, however, John was proven wrong on both accounts. A somewhat subtle buzzing noise began to reverberate from in and around the Devils Gate, causing him to take a few steps back, his eyes wide as they focused on the structure. The buzzing sound quickly grew into a high-pitched whistle which was accompanied by bangs that made it seem like there was something, something large, on the other side of the door that wanted out. In a way, John supposed that was exactly what was happening.

Stumbling further backwards, his gaze still glued on the door, the hunter barely had time to duck before the Gate burst open, sending a sharp, blue bolt forward which lit up the entire Devils Trap surrounding the cemetery. A sudden explosion to the side and John tumbled to the ground, only able to watch as the first plumes of thick black smoke began to billow forth out of the Gate. It was like an endless candle flame being snuffed out in the sky, something like a metaphor for the hope of mankind.

For several moments, John remained frozen on the ground, the full understanding of what he had done finally sinking in. It was one thing when you knew you had no other option and were acting altruistically to save a life...It was another entirely when you saw the results of that action for yourself, live and in person. Closing his eyes, John almost willed something to strike him down right now. He did what he had to do, Dean would be saved.

Of course, like most events in his life, it never went the way he wanted, and from behind a gleeful voice broke his reverie.

"Well, will you look at you. You did it. You actually did it," Azazel crowed as he crossed the broken threshold of the cemetery, "Who knew that you were such a sentimentalist, John," He moved towards the hunter, clapping him on the back, "I'm proud of you, buddy!"

Lurching to his feet, John turned and glared at the demon, unrepentant hatred in his eyes. His voice was low, cold, as he spoke, "Don't you ever, ever, call me your buddy," Casting a quick glance back towards the Gate, John continued, "You have better held up your end of the bargain,"

With a head tilt and a grin, Azazel replied, "Do you not believe I am a man of my word..."

"You're not a man at all," John interrupted with a grunt, his gaze deadly, his stance solid.

"Oh...ouch..." The demon feigned hurt, and clasped a hand to his chest. "You always know just the right words to say, John," Shrugging off the hunter's glare, Azazel added, "Dean is fine...Sam is fine...They're bonding at the moment. Talking about you, actually..." His grin expanded, "Wanna know what they're saying?"

"No," Was the flat reply that emitted from the eldest Winchester. He was sure whatever it was, it wasn't likely to be flattering and he sure as Hell didn't need emotion clouding the moment.

"Your call," Azazel remarked, moving towards the Devil's Gate, "Isn't it a beautiful night, John?" Breathing in deeply, he yanked the Colt out of the door, "Smell that air. Nothing like sulfur in the night. Romantic, almost," He turned, waving the gun at John, "I'll be holding onto this," As he began to walk off into the darkness, he once more called over his shoulder, "You may want to head out now, John. I can't vouch for all my soldiers here...Might not be safe for you. You make a lot of enemies, you know..." The sound of his chuckle long surpassed his form as the darkness continued to gather.

With one last long look around the cemetery, John began to step quickly back towards his truck. This wasn't going to end well. And there was no place he could go and admit what he had just done. Soon, he would have a mark on his back, once the word spread that he had aided the ultimate enemy. Public Enemy Number One. In the hunter circle, that was spelled John Winchester.


End file.
